Sea Hat
by Warfang
Summary: An idea that hit me a few months back. It takes Vieri and puts him in the prince's seat of a messed up 'The Little Mermaid' with additional pairings. M for swearing  at the moment


I do not own Assassin's Creed, and this idea would not leave me alone! Why do Federico and Vieri get so little love? X_X

EDIT- Thank you Sunburned-Stickperson for the editing and advice, and all the laughs that went with!

EDIT II- Thanks to ScrabbleJak and the wonderful stories that kept me wanting to finish this! It's not as awesome as your stories are, but I hope you like!

On with the story (which is AU and not quite The Little Mermaid)

Vieri raced through the woods, headed down to the wall. Why his father built a wall there, he had no idea. It was wide and vast, and though he could fly up with Leonardo, he couldn't see past the wall. Sometimes he thought he saw a reflection, but Leonardo, the old geezer, would just laugh and say his eyes were tired.

Then the lying bastard would look lonely and gaze in the same direction.

So why build the wall?

There was just some salty fluid that seeped up from beneath is anyway.

Machiavelli, a tutor of his for law and physics and general calligraphy, had gone still when he smelled Vieri come home one night. He had just entered the courtyard, and passed by Machiavelli on his way up to bed, figuring that he would bathe in the morning. Machiavelli's nostrils had flared and Vieri found himself being swept up to his room.

He had demanded to know where Vieri had gone after ushering him up to a bath and destroying his clothes. Vieri still couldn't understand why he couldn't tell others that he had found a pool of salty water by the base of the wall.

He always raced the breadth of the wall. Miles long, vanishing into the cliffs that surrounded the castle, it was a good seven-mile run. Well, more like fourteen miles, because he had to double back and head the opposite way. And not quite at a dead run the whole time. Sometimes he would walk the distance with his sister to give her a fair complexion (and to avoid that Cesare when he visited).

There were some things about the Castle that worried Vieri, such as how the servants just didn't talk. Sure, Leonardo would talk with him, and Machiavelli would talk sometimes, but otherwise, not even his father could be bothered to speak to him beyond 'Good morning' at breakfast.

And only at breakfast when Cesare was visiting did his father speak to him! His sister, Viola, was excused for not talking to him. She was born mute, and was considered a burden on the family, only put up with because the Medici family named her their goddaughter, even with her affliction.

Vieri growled and jumped over a log. Another half mile, and he would be at the wall. His sister was not ridiculous, damn that Lucrezia! She was always strutting, that- that! He knew no swears to pour on her name that would not insult the creatures he used!

Clapping a hand to his head, he felt the hat that Viola had fixed for him, her lopsided, tiny stitches bringing the material back together.

After that, Vieri snuck her lessons in reading and writing. Leonardo was disappointed to find that teaching Viola was not such a hard task to do, and did not consume his free time. Then again, Machiavelli had made a back-handed comment on how Leonardo was blind to freeing her mind from obscurity.

He even likened her mind to a bird, and her muteness to a cage.

That was the only time Vieri saw Leonardo 'accidentally' pour paint over a fellow servant. Well, no, not really. Leonardo and Machiavelli weren't his servants, but they fell below his station. He was Vieri de Pazzi, expected to be crafted into the finest Lord after his father and rule over the region.

How could he rule over a region he had never seen? The farthest from home had been-oh wait, he never left his home! The farthest he ever got was the cliffs, and those were on their personal grounds!

Storming up to the wall, Vieri slid down the white stone. It was always cool, no matter the season. He looked around, before pushing off and wandering alongside it.

Was he doomed to never see the outside world? Leonardo had to beg his father, Cesare, and the Medici just to build the hot air balloon that would take Vieri up above the Castle when Vieri asked him five years ago if the sky was blue all over the world.

Sometimes, just Leonardo and Machiavelli would fly up, claiming that it was to ensure the balloon was in good condition, but they always wound up crying when they went back to their rooms. Well, Vieri assumed they were crying. They always had something in their eyes such as dust or from looking in the sun, but Vieri never heard them sobbing or see tears pour down their faces. They just looked misty eyed for a while.

When he told Viola, she signed 'crying' to him.

Vieri noticed his favorite cluster of trees ahead, and gauging the distance, broke into a smooth loping pace, reaching them. He crouched down, wriggling under the branches until he reached the clearing inside. Then he stretched out and looked up. The evening air brought out the stars to him.

They were a mystery. He wondered if they existed beyond the wall, or if they cut off as well, and were just tricks played on his mind. Perhaps above the wall, there was a giant mirror, that reflected the endless blue of the sky above the castle.

Snorting, Vieri scrapped that idea. He felt the wind blow in his face, there was nothing built above the wall.

A salty smell made its way into the clearing. Sitting up, Vieri sniffed the air.

It was definitely the same smell as that salty pool he found by the wall once. There had been nothing to make the pool. It wasn't adjacent to the wall, and seemed to have just welled up from the ground. Vieri had never found it again, and he walked the wall nearly daily.

Crawling back out, Vieri followed his nose to where the salty smell was coming strongest.

There was a small pool, wider than himself stretched out, and as Vieri stared into the depths, he realized that wasn't his face looking back at him-

There was an arm coming up out of the water. With a shout, Vieri jumped back. He scrambled upright at a boy looking as old as him came up out of the water.

"What in the name of the Goddess do you think you're doing! That's dangerous! The wall is there for a reason!"

The boy gave him a blank look, before placing a wet lock of hair behind his ear.

"And the reason for the wall being there is?"

Vieri flushed.

"I, uhm, it's just there, alright you idiot? My father put it there, and he says it stays there."

"Ah, your father must be the Pazzi, then."

Vieri puffed out his chest.

"That's Lord Pazzi! I'm the Pazzi around here."

The boy stared at him.

And then he did the most disrespectful thing Vieri had ever heard.

He burst out laughing.

Vieri gaped at him, as the boy rolled in the water, splashing around. Vieri scooted back, wanting to avoid the water.

The boy stopped, and then gave a splash in his direction.

"What's the matter? Scared of getting wet?"

"No, it's just the last time I got salt water on me, my clothes were destroyed." Vieri glared at the memory. "And he never did answer my questions why."

The boy, Vieri noticed, had a rather defined chest, but was thinner than Vieri.

"So, this isn't the first salt pool you've come across?"

Vieri shook his head.

"About six years ago, I found a smaller one that was just there."

The boy hummed, and continued to look at Vieri.

"Shouldn't you be getting home?"

"I am home. I'm on the Pazzi grounds." Vieri retorted. "If anyone needs to get home, it's you." He snapped.

The boy smiled. "But I can't go home empty handed. I need to catch something first."

Vieri did not like the innocent expression on the boy's face. But what was the worst he could do? If Vieri so much as raised his voice, five guards would come running.

"What are you looking for?" Vieri leaned back over, resting his weight on his arms as he peered into the water.

"You."

There was a splash, and then the waters returned to their calm state. Vieri stared at the water, watching the other boy sink into the depths.

He shifted his weight and raised a hand to his lips.

Had the other boy…kissed him?

…..

Vieri returned to the palace, the guards noting his return and signaling the servants to bring him some food.

"Vieri! Where were you, child? You missed dinner; your father's angry; Viola is too terrified to move beyond her sewing, and Cesare arrived just in time for dinner."

Vieri slowed his breathing and followed Machiavelli inside.

"Machiavelli, are there people who live in the water?" the question slide out before Vieri could stop himself.

The other man froze.

"I think I was kissed by a boy with golden eyes and long brown hair, but he couldn't have been older than me. I waited for so long, but he never came back up."

Machiavelli made a strangled noise. Vieri turned to look at him. The man was frozen, eyes locked at a point beyond Vieri.

A hand fell on Vieri's shoulder.

"Bambino, what makes you say such ludicrous things?" Cesare purred behind him. Vieri turned to face the Spaniard. Cesare smelled like warm stones and travel, his raven winged hair brushed to a silky gloss. He was one of the rare few visitors allowed to wear his own armor even within the courtyard. His cloak still had the wrinkles from being folded, clearly not the same vibrant red cape as the one he wore to travel in.

"Because, I saw him. His skin was tan, and he was skinnier than me. He- he tried to grab me." Vieri answered automatically. Lying to Cesare, renowned for his sharp senses and leadership, would be foolhardy.

Vieri mentally smacked himself for nearly blurting out the kiss. He had spat into the water, but the salt remained on his tongue from licking his lips.

Cesare gave him a worried look. Well, it would look worried if he didn't seem to be restraining himself. His other hand was flexing, as though he wanted to pull Vieri into him.

"You. Take Vieri to his bed and dry him. We will speak more in the morning, Bambino. That must have been frightening."

With that, Cesare left.

Vieri gaped after him. First the water boy laughed at him, now Cesare was dismissing him? What in the seven worlds was happening here?

But Machiavelli was already shepherding him inside and up into his tower room. Along the way, Leonardo appeared, guiding Viola with Lucrezia's cheery 'Goodnight!' dissipating behind them. Vieri wondered if there was anywhere Cesare could travel without his sister following him.

Viola and Vieri were thrown onto the bed before Machiavelli whirled and barred the doorway. Leonardo crossed to the room and slammed the window shut, using his hand- his hand!- to muffle the bang and latch it. Then Machiavelli chased Viola behind a changing screen and threw a night gown after her, turning around.

Leonardo just as quickly stripped Vieri and dressed him in a chemise, tugging the shirt down to his knees. Viola reappeared, and Machiavelli lifted the bed and arranged the dress under it, before dropping the mattress over it.

Viola and Vieri shared a look. What was making Machiavelli and Leonardo behave so strangely? The candles were lit, and then Leonardo flipped down the blankets, and Vieri and Viola crawled in.

Machiavelli opened a book to the middle chapters and began to read. Leonardo inched to the door, then threw the lock off and leapt back, landing on a chair. He sat down, and looked at Machiavelli.

Vieri and Viola eyes widened as their father came into the room. He looked around and sniffed the air. Then, with a nod to his children, strode out again.

Leonardo's lips moved.

Machiavelli gave a tired smile, before murmuring, "By building a nest by the water, and learning how to fly."

Vieri decided he was surrounded by lunatics.

…..

The dawn sought them out, Leonardo opening the window to let the daylight in. The grounds where covered in white. The light glared up at Vieri, who leaned out, blinking into the grounds.

"What happened to our home?" Viola signed. Machiavelli shook his head, ushering her out and to her hand maiden. Viola was whisked away in a flurry of skirts and perfume. Despite being considered something of a disappointment to the family, Viola was a well behaved woman. She even had her own wing, and Vieri suspected that her hand maidens were far more loyal to her than to the family.

Leonardo made a noise, gazing at the pebbles. His eyes were watering. With a huff, Vieri shook out the sleeve of his chemise and raised his cuff to dab at Leonardo's cheeks.

"What will Cesare say if sees you like this at breakfast?"

Leonardo made a garbled noise, before rushing into the bathroom. Vieri stared after him, listening to the choked whines behind the door.

His door flew open, Machiavelli leaping aside to avoid being clouted by the door.

"Where is he- ah, Vieri, my son, you are relieved of duties for today. And you are not to step one foot outside until this," his father waved a vague hand around himself, "is taken care of. Cesare wishes to see you in the afternoon." Then his father swept out of the room.

Vieri stared after his father.

What was so important that his father would come up here to see him? And imprison him! The only thing that changed over night was the white covering the grounds- something fell past the window.

Vieri turned back. Birds were landing on the rooftop, ordinary pigeons, and more white was falling off the roof. Sticking his right hand out, Vieri nearly dropped what he caught from the searing cold that lanced up his arm and sank into his skull. They had looked like white, airy flakes, but his hand curled around a solid weight, the muscles spasming around the object.

With a pained yowl, Vieri yanked his hand back, his fingers clutching around the smooth surface and aching from the cold sealing his fingers shut even as the pain boiled in his mind to release it.

Falling to his knees, Vieri's sight blurred. All he could see was the wall, and some of the floor, and he clutched his hand, bringing it to his chest to cradle away from the pain. The cold seared into his flesh, crawling up his wrist. It felt like it was flowing through his veins, into his heart!

Voices thundered above him. His father's robe…?

More voices. Leonardo's patterned boots were suddenly in front of him. The robe moved out of his line of sight.

"Listen carefully. You have to swallow that." Another white pebble was pressed into his hand. Vieri felt gloved fingers tilt his head up, and he opened his mouth. He would do anything to make the cold stop.

The stone slide into his mouth and dissolved. A tingly, spark feeling, like the motes of embers that floated up from a fire danced throughout his body. Leonardo made as though to be looking over Vieri with his medical experience, shoving a blanket under his head to hide Vieri's motion. And then Cesare was snarling at Leonardo and Machiavelli to get away from him.

Cesare gripped Vieri's hand, carefully prying his fingers opened.

"We are just in time, signore Pazzi. He was still holding it." Cesare pulled the stone away, and Vieri didn't know why, but he jerked after the stone. Cesare twisted his arm and pulled him up.

"No, Vieri. Come, dress yourself and we shall spend the day together." Cesare made to kiss him, but Vieri shrieked and lunged away, jerking violently. Cesare unhanded him.

"Tie him down before he hurts himself!"

Cold flashes were radiating through Vieri. Where Cesare had touched him, the cold was concentrating, as so much condensation pooled together on a glass after being collected. Vieri strained against breaking into tears, his body tensing.

The cold was roiling through him. His heart hurt so much. He had been in pain before, but falling off a horse was nothing like this. This flowed through his core, and he shivered. He was so cold, he needed to be warmed. He needed warmth, he needed….

Vieri eyed the door, wondering if he could sprint all the way to the wall; to his favorite copse of trees….Vieri became aware of a slight tug in his thoughts, to go back to the pool of salt water. To go back to the boy. The notion dissolved as his rational mind, the part that did not succumb to the pain or the fear, wrenched him back to analyze the situation.

He was scared. A Pazzi should never show fear. Never flinch in the face of danger, of his enemies. But he was home, safe, and in the present of his own family. His feelings were terrifying him. Jerking away from the guards, he walked to Leonardo and buried his face into the artist's neck. His father was past Cesare, standing in front of the door actually. The artist, of course, would never replace his father, but Vieri needed someone to hold him up. Clinging to Leonardo was the least embarrassing option, as blacking out seemed to be the only other option to cope with the pain.

And besides, his body decided that running to Leonardo was the most coherent decision he had made yet. The artist seemed to have an idea of what was going on.

The cold spread around him where he was in contact with Leonardo, but it did not pool and collect as some variation of a cloak between him and the artist.

"Cesare, no. He's in shock." Leonardo wrapped his arms around Vieri.

Cesare drew himself up to his full height. "Are you defying me, Leonardo?"

Machiavelli snorted from the other side of the room.

"He knows as much as what is happening as you do. He's trying to help Vieri adjust. Making him feel like a prisoner in his own home will not smitten him to you." Cesare's shadow moved across the room, and Vieri bit Leonardo to muffle his scream as flesh struck flesh.

What was wrong with him? He had seen father strike the servants before, why was he flipping out over Cesare hitting Machiavelli? Hell, he would strike Machiavelli himself for being so impudent to his master! But right now, he just wanted to be safe….

His behavior was freaking him out more than the pebble had. Releasing Leonardo's shirt, he gave it an apologetical lick before turning his head to look at Cesare. He was in control, damnit, and no stupid pebble or emotional breakdown was going to suddenly change him against his will. He was Vieri de Pazzi. He was stronger than this. Shoving the feelings aside, Vieri clenched his hand until he drew blood.

"Cesare. I'll be down shortly for breakfast."

Cesare stared at Vieri from where he stood over Machiavelli, his stance weighted on his back foot. Leonardo's hands clenched, but otherwise the artist kept his silence. Vieri debated reprimanding him for striking Machiavelli, but while the man was his tutor, he was only a tutor.

There was nothing special about Machiavelli, Vieri sternly told himself. The only extraordinary thing about him was the man's ability to take care of himself. He would laugh at Vieri if he ever told Machiavelli he was worried about him.

"A game of chess for the day, perhaps, and some stories? We haven't had a chance to talk about your travels abroad yet." Cesare's stance eased out of its threatening posture, before he left with a curt nod. Vieri's eyes followed him out of the room. His father gave a brief nod to him, and then swept out after Cesare.

The door closed after him, footsteps fading down the stair well.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" Vieri snapped, whirling on his tutors.

"Absolutely nothing, Bambino. You're still the swearing, competitive youth you were before, those were your preservation instincts showing." Machiavelli replied, picking himself up off the floor. His clothes were creased and dirty. He smelled as though he had not washed for the last two days, and Vieri realized with a start that neither man had left last night.

In fact, Cesare hadn't smelled like a bed of roses himself. He and his father had looked haggard, as though they had been up late last night. Probably discussing something and lost track of the hour, Vieri decided.

He stepped away from Leonardo and hurried over to his chest, drawing out a pair of pants and slipping into them, before shucking his chemise, balling it up, and lobbing it at the bed.

With a 'tsk' Leonardo moved to the bed to unball the cloth and fold it.

"And why are my preservation instincts kicking in?" He snapped at Machiavelli, searching for a suitable white shirt to wear inside for the rest of the day. Well, not exactly preservation instincts, but that sounded much manlier than a woman's sense suddenly developing in him. Scowling at the walls, Vieri blamed them for not finding a white shirt. Resorting to anger felt good, it gave him a sense of control over events. Now, if only he could aim that anger at the ones responsible…

"Simple. You felt threatened-"

"And I am going to be threatening unless I get some answers. Why am I feeling this way? Does it have to do with the pebbles? With the wall? The wall-" Vieri demanded, expecting answers. It was when he remembered that white pebble, so cold, and its ilk laying all over the courtyard, the roofs, piling on top of each other, reaching high up the walls, the sun nearly blinding him with how white it was.

Vieri ran back to the window.

The top half of the wall was gone.

He saw the ceiling before the world went black.

…

When Vieri came to, his sister was reading beside him, and Cesare was hovering in the doorway.

"How? How can the wall be?" Vieri croaked.

Viola shut her book, hurrying to bring him a cup of water. In the doorway, Cesare looked at him.

"The shock of the wall missing made you faint?"

Vieri looked at Cesare and sat up straighter. "That wall has been there for all of my life- even before I was born, I think! How can it just be- be gone!" Vieri waved a hand and checked himself, Viola ducking under it and pressing the cup to his mouth. Realizing how badly he was shaking, he opened his mouth and let her tilt the cup before pulling back.

Cesare was fully in the room, before smoothing a section at the foot of the bed and sitting down.

"Vieri, I promise to protect you."

"From what?" Vieri whispered.

Cesare gave him a smile. "From what made the wall nearly vanish."

Vieri would have been comforted if Cesare's smile had reached his eyes.

A guard stepped into the room. "Mi Capitan, your sister is screaming. We cannot calm her. Your assistance is urgent in this matter."

Cesare sighed, before abandoning his seat on the bed. "We shall have to play that chess another day, then. My sister's fits can be….most tiring."

After Cesare left, and Viola sat vigil beside him, all Vieri could think was that the sky was blue beyond the wall.

…

The day turned into two, then three, and then it was a whole month before the white pebbles vanish one day. The wall was not rebuilt, but no carts had been in there to pull the pebbles away.

Vieri gazed across the grounds. The dirt that was revealed after so long covered by the pebbles was just….wrong. He could not explain why, but the sight of dirt made him feel awkward, and the site of compacted dirt made him nauseous.

He mentioned this to Machiavelli one day when they were studying a new philosopher, and Machiavelli gave him an odd smile.

"To me, the site of nothing growing makes me ill. Envision the life the soil can give and see if that helps."

Which it did, but Vieri kept himself awake that night pondering just why it did. And just as sleep crept over him, Vieri bolted up and threw it off. How in the seven worlds did Machiavelli know what would ease the pain?

Vieri moaned and ran his fingers through his hair. What did he really know about either of his tutors, besides what they taught him? Once the thought was lodged in his head, Vieri knew the subject would not let him rest until he satisfied his curiosity.

As it was, he satisfied his curiosity earlier by deciding that he had no access to either book or person to question, and that thinking about it did nothing for him that add to his circulating thoughts.

But now he had a new obsession. With a sigh, Vieri sat up, ready to pace. After physically working off some of his energy, Vieri sat down to think.

Machiavelli and Leonardo had been presented from Cesare when he was seven for tutoring. His father had been most pleased to accept the deal. Vieri adjusted to his waking hours being consumed by lessons before he started arguing with the men.

Instead of cowing before him or telling him to shut up, the arguments turned into conversations, and from there, into discussions. Vieri made leaps and bounds on his studies. The only downfall he had was that he would not pose nude for Leonardo to paint.

Leonardo still tried to get him to model, until Vieri snapped at him that if he needed a nude male so much, get Machiavelli to do it.

Leonardo hadn't bothered him since then.

But he had insisted on some red and orange paint to be doubled with his next order for pigments. Whatever he had painted instead never made it onto a canvas, as the paint order went out for the usual material as scheduled.

Rolling back onto bed, Vieri bounced up and down a few times. He hated when his brain wouldn't slow down.

Perhaps some water would help.

Vieri crossed the room to the water basin, and poured out a drink. He was mid-gulp before he realized that the water tasted wrong.

It was bitter and nasty. Spitting the drink out, Vieri knocked the jug over, coughing and wheezing. He fumbled for his desk, scattering papers and feeling his heart race.

Finally, the charcoal sticks. Setting them to rub, he made as much charcoal dust as he could and swallowed the amount. He repeated the gesture, until finally, he calmed down.

Sitting down on the bed, Vieri looked around the room. His hand rubbed his forehead. First, someone had just tried to poison him. Second, he didn't know Leonardo or Machiavelli, or why they were behaving strangely. Third, he had a freak run in with a frozen pebble. Fourth….Vieri scowled. This all started after he met that water boy.

He was going back to the cause of this trouble. Somehow.

….

It was two more months, and well into winter, before Vieri was allowed outside again. With a reluctant farewell, Cesare had left them to attend an urgent matter, and now his father rushed about, ordering servants and haranguing footmen on account of Viola's sudden illness.

She had gone from walking with Vieri earlier that day to collapsed in the family room. Guards were stationed at the wall, and the Medici family had sent word that they would take in their god daughter.

Whoever the Medici were. Vieri didn't even know that Viola had god parents, and from the way his father was behaving, one would think that they really were gods.

He mentioned them as such to Machiavelli in passing, and Machiavelli fell over. He covered it by pretending to have dropped his parchments, but when he looked up to Vieri, he just gave a small smile.

"Sometimes I forget how much you know, and how little you realize." He explained, before walking away.

Vieri gaped after him, before storming out.

He immediately tripped up his father.

After being humiliated in front of the servants, Vieri escaped to the outside grounds. The snow was cold, but after the freezing racks from the autumn, Vieri tugged his favorite hat over his head and stalked over to the wall.

He was running those seven miles today.

Gasping, flat on his back, Vieri decided that the homeward sprint could have not happened. Or at least the part where he ended up flying several feet forward did not need to happen. With a groan, he turned himself over, his muscles aching. Stretching himself out, he noticed that the ground he was on was rather firm, and cold. Not to mention level.

Standing up, Vieri's legs decided to give out from under him, ending with Vieri windmilling his arms and landing forward on his knees. Ow, that hurt….

The red staining the cold alarmed Vieri. Yanking his hand back, Vieri found his palm had suffered a scratch on the protruding base of it. Licking the wound, Vieri sucked on it and made his way to the white back, where he was hoping land was.

Whatever his was-

Ohmercifulgoddessthere was something beneath him!

Vieri lunged for the bank and threw himself up it, fear causing him to use his damaged hand and cause more blood to seep out.

Once he was up on the bank, Vieri froze there, making small, panicked noises.

Where were the guards? They should be here helping him!

Vieri watched the white form follow the trail, and then vanish beneath him.

But he was on land, wasn't he? Wasn't he?

With a cry, Vieri fell back and scrambled, before finally standing, and making his way to a copse of trees. Recognizing them as his favorite, Vieri stumbled beneath them and then scrambled up into the branches, where he clung, his heart threatening to give out.

A soft yip drew his attention.

On another branch, there was a fox.

Vieri stared at the white furred creature for a long time. Finally, he slumped back, his back hitting the trunk and he clung to the branch.

"Sorry, messer La Volpe, but I'm not heading back down for a while. You'll have to find another way down."

The fox lunged at him.

Vieri gasped and threw his arms up, ducking his head.

The fox planted its paws on his forearms, and to Vieri's horror, stole his hat.

Then the fox was off and running.

Vieri hesitated, then jumped down, after the fox. Viola had patched that hat for him. Viola was leaving. She would be sad if Vieri didn't wear her hat.

And besides, how hard could it be to catch a dumb creature?

…

Apparently, foxes were sly creatures, and highly intelligent.

"I apologize…if I….called you stupid. You're really smart. Now may I please have my hat back?" Vieri wheezed.

The fox was up in the tree, the hat out of his mouth but pinned by his paw to the tree.

Vieri didn't recognize where in the grounds they were, but he hazard a midpoint between the wall and the Palazzo, being at a slant from the Palazzo, and thus further away. The fox looked at him.

Vieri growled. "Look, bastardo, Machiavelli taught me to be polite with my betters, and you've earned that, though through dubious means." Vieri glared at his hat.

"I demand that you give me my hat back, on no other grounds than you stole it-hey!" The fox picked the hat up in its jaws and with a toss of its head, landed the hat in another tree.

"A race, I take it?" Vieri called up.

The fox looked at him. And then they both shot forward for the tree.

Vieri never managed to get farther than reaching the trunk before the fox had the hat, and he swore the fox was laughing at him.

Calm down, what would Machiavelli do? He would find some way to turn the situation to his advantage, some way to cheat….

"Again." Vieri demanded. The fox tossed the hat, and then looked at Vieri. Vieri nodded, and the fox took off.

Vieri scooped up some snow, made it into a pebble form, and threw it. The white pebble hit the hat and knocked it to the ground, Vieri already running after he threw the cheat. He snatched up his hat with a triumphant cry, and turned to look at the fox. The fox was gone.

"Oh, come on! You didn't expect me to keep playing by rules I was losing at, did you!" Vieri yelled. With a grumble, he pulled his hat in his head.

"No, but I do expect you not to yell when your elders are trying to sleep."

Vieri jumped high, his tired legs finding the motivation to propel him backwards.

"Now, what is all this fuss about?"

"A fox stole my hat so I stole it back."

The man 'tsked'. "That doesn't sound very fair. Treating a poor creature like that, cheating it out of its amusement."

Vieri drew himself up.

"Machiavelli says 'turn about is fair play', so if the fox wanted to play, it got its turn. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going home."

The man was dressed in an assortment of white and light grey, with what seemed to be violet eyes.

"Did you say….Machiavelli?"

"Yeah, he's my tutor at the Palazzo de Pazzi." The man swept an arm out.

"Come, your lips are turning blue. Warm yourself in my cloak and I'll walk you back."

"And you want what in return?" Vieri demanded, crossing his arms. He was not a stupid child. Everyone wanted something in this world. He was not going anywhere with this stranger until he had ascertained his wily behavior.

"Tell me more about this….Machiavelli."

Vieri shrugged. Machiavelli never left the Palazzo itself, so he wouldn't be in any danger. Although the guards' failure to materialize to aid him was shoved firmly to the back of his head. He wasn't in any real danger; it was just a panic attack. They were soldiers, not doctors.

He babbled on about Machiavelli, telling the elderly man about what all Machiavelli taught him, about their fights, about how weird he behaved.

"There's this hot air balloon that Leonardo built, you see, and whenever he went up there, he would look out over the wall and sigh- no wait, that's Leonardo. Sometimes he would look towards the gate, and Leonardo always let him stay up there until the hot air was running out."

The man nodded, unlocking the palace side door and shooing Vieri in.

"This is where I leave you, I'm afraid."

Vieri turned around, "Good night, good sir."

The man arched an eyebrow at him. "I thought I was a stupid fox?"

And then there was just Vieri, an open door, and snow. Vieri gaped at the empty space, before stumbling inside.

His day just filled up with more and more questions. Because, even though he knew the man must have been there for a while, how had he known that he called the fox stupid? The man was an old bastard, that's what he was!

Vieri ignored the stray thought that perhaps the fox was the old man. No, more than likely the fox was a pet of the old man, and nothing more. And somehow, the fox told the old man that Vieri had called him stupid. Right.

He trotted over to the kitchen, where he doused his hand in hot water, applied ointment before wrapping the damn thing, and then he headed upstairs.

His father was waiting for him.

"Where have you been?"

"Learning that the white stuff makes for ready ammo to hit targets with. I'm afraid I lost track of time, father."

His father scowled at him, before gesturing to his room. "You are confined to the palace until I return from escorting your sister."

Vieri opened his mouth, to ask why, but the door was already closed and locked.

Fuming, Vieri crossed his arms. What was with people and not telling what was going on? And why couldn't he show them up at some point? Usually, he had a witty retort, but he was afraid of punishment from his father, and the old bastard just left him speechless.

Scowling, Vieri glared outside where the white, cold stuff began to fall again. It didn't fall like pebbles, but danced wherever the bloody well it felt like.

A vicious ache shot through Vieri's chest.

Swearing at the world in general, Vieri stripped and crawled under the covers. It was cold nights like these that he slept nude under the layers of sheets. Something about the cold and the feel of silk on his skin just appealed to him.

What did not appeal to him was waking up to Machiavelli asking him if he could 'keep' the white fox that stole his hat yesterday.

Vieri glared at them both.

"If that damn fox steals my hat, I'm wringing his neck myself. Now out, I'm sleeping." He snarled, wrapping the blankets around himself, he delved back into the bed.

The door shut softly, then Machiavelli snuck away. With a growl, Vieri fell back asleep. He was awoken at what felt like minutes later to a commotion. People were yelling outside, and something was making a repetitive, high pitch noise that dragged Vieri up from his sleep.

Vieri dragged himself over to the window to yell at the people down below. His mouth opened, and a blast of cold made him shut it again.

Down in the courtyard, the fox was dashing away from the guards, while Machiavelli was in chains, and being dragged off towards the dungeons. The fox would dodge around to reach him, but the guards lowered their spears and waved them menacingly at the fox. A few were notching cross bows.

"What the hell? It's a fox!" Vieri yelled, but no one looked up. His words were snatched away by the wind.

Which was why Vieri did what he did next. Not out of concern for the fox, or worry over Machiavelli, but because he was pissed off at being ignored.

He scooped up some of the white cold stuff from his windowsill, made it into a sizable pebble that inside of his palm, and lobbed it.

The guard shrieked and fell over, screaming in agony. Vieri paused, open mouthed at what he just did.

The fox darted past and ran up to Machiavelli, and then both his tutor and the fox were gone.

Vieri stood frozen in the window, watching the drama unfold. The guard was carried away, and the portcullis was lowered. The grounds were being sealed off.

Vieri was still gaping at them, the cold reaching through the blankets to stroke his flesh when a hand pulled him back.

"Are you crazy, Vieri? What if that…thing was after you?"

Vieri snapped back as the window was closed by Leonardo, "We were just attacked and I'm to think that it was after me? That….thing got Machiavelli! We need to mount a rescue!"

The window was closed and locked. The cold lingered on his flesh, twining into his blanket.

Leonardo turned to smile softly at him. "Vieri, that sentiment is touching, but trust me when I say that Niccolo is most safe."

"Safe? Safe? I was the one that told him he could have that stupid fox here! Why was he in chains? Why were the guards trying to kill an animal? Why the fuck did the fox steal my hat in the first place?" Vieri did not care that he nearing the age of seventeen summers, he was going to scream if he damn well wanted to. He had no answers, and now Machiavelli, a man who had raised him, had vanished.

Just vanished.

Just like the top part of the wall had, like that boy had, like the salty water did, and now his sister was gone, Machiavelli was gone, and Vieri hated to admit it, but he was scared.

And naked. And his feet were freezing on the flagstones. In fact, nearly all of him was freezing, and the cold was starting to make him ache.

Leonardo gave a sigh and handed Vieri his fur cloak. (he claimed that he had shaved a bear, and then had the fur re-grown, but Vieri stopped listening to the how after trying to imagine the ripple of bear skin without fur and laughing.)

Vieri wrapped himself in it, hopping back on his bed to keep warm. The blanket was folded neatly and set atop his chest, before Leonardo stood before him, his blue eyes sad and happy.

"Vieri, there is much kept from you about the world. Do you realize that you have never left the family Palazzo?"

"It really hit me about five years ago, and again when father said that the Medici were looking after Viola. Who are they? They sound like gods the way people talk, and Machiavelli dropped his papers like your mouth just did- don't you dare deny it- when I suggested such."

Leonardo shut his mouth, before reaching up and rubbing his chin.

"I wouldn't name them gods….but…what other questions do you have?"

Vieri tried to glare, he really did, but apparently Leonardo couldn't answer his questions. Vieri felt something cold inside seize his muscles and squeeze. It was a different cold from the blanket.

"I…what all can you tell me about the outside world when you lived there, Leonardo?"

Golden eyebrows shot up his forehead. Then Leonardo smiled. He sat next to Vieri and prattled about banquets held in halls bigger than Vieri's home. Bigger than his home. Vieri gave Leonardo a look of disbelief. Leonardo gave him a smile and a nod, his blue eyes shining with an inner light. Vieri tried to think of anywhere bigger than his home, before leaning against Leonardo and frowning.

"Perhaps later, you will understand." Leonardo murmured. He continued on after Vieri staved off the oncoming headache. He spoke of lands where the clothes worn where brightly colored, or where made of animal skins, or where women ruled, where people lived in subterranean worlds.

Vieri interrupted at that. "But underground… how is there light there?"

"There are plants that give off light. They don't need to grow above ground, but it is a chemical reaction that I can show you some day. There are such pretty blues and violets and some rare green ones, soft and illuminating."

Vieri felt his awe grow. At one point, he was aware of dismissing a guard, and ordering some messengers out.

Then Leonardo was telling him about backwards waterfalls and rivers, about lights in the sky, about ships, about cattle.

Vieri gave him a blank look.

"Uhm, how should I put this…" Leonardo fluttered his hands, tapping the fingertips together. "Ah! You've seen the Borgia crest, yes? Of the bull? Cattle is another term for cow, but refers to free ranging creatures, kept on vast stretches of grass. There are usually many females, and only one male bull."

Vieri gaped at him.

"You mean animals have harems?"

Leonardo laughed out loud.

About trees that had trunks as round as Vieri's room was big. Some of the trees had rooms built within their branches, connected by airy boardwalks that made up entire communities. Some had their trunks hallowed out, the tree still growing, allowing for passage between impassable rock faces that soared up to the very heavens. The air was too thin to breathe up there.

Vieri lapped up everything Leonardo told him, believing everything, even the fantastical. Leonardo had been there, Leonardo earnestly told him about these places.

"And there are people who are…free. They follow their own rules, and are respectful, and they are so beautiful. I was fortunate to paint some of them." Leonardo had become sad again.

Vieri reached out, his hand brushing Leonardo's shoulder, as he had once seen one of his sister's hand maidens do when Viola was lost in unsettling thoughts.

"Uh, it'll be okay. Maybe you'll see them again."

Leonardo gave Vieri a hug that nearly bruised his ribs, before tucking him back in bed. Vieri offered the fur cloak back, but Leonardo shook his head, unfolding the chilled blanket and putting it over the fur.

"Sleep well, Vieri. Classes are cancelled, but I expect that you'll be studying under me and anyone else you chose now."

Vieri groaned. "You mean between you, the cook, and the horse back lessons, I need to choose someone to replace the time with Machiavelli?"

Leonardo nodded, and then headed for the door.

"Leonardo?"

He paused in the open doorway.

"I…I hope that fox treats him well. Where ever they are."

Leonardo gave him a small smile, before gently shutting the door.

And for the first time, despite being left alone in his room, Vieri felt much more connected with the world than he ever had.

...

A/N: Whew. This is nowhere near finished, and the last portion probably needs editing, but I am putting this up so that I remember to add the rest of it later! Also, is Vieri enough in character? He keeps straying OOC and I have to go back and edit.


End file.
